C here. Having only today really recovered from a grotesquely nauseous 48 hours - a condition, I learned, insidiously conferred on me by treacherous "friends" feigning generosity and holiday beneficence by offering delectable food, delicious drink, and delightful company whilst quietly spreading a horrendous virus to all their Christmas Eve gathering guests (so thought-out and exhaustive was their ruse that the host herself apparently took the bug! Clever fiends...) - I thought Mrs. Elsea and I were nonetheless on track to leave in, well, now about 22 hours for Chicago.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQU0weExeWOKJfq4VTfwwbBBCxowsAZyDZ-1THpRExB6z_l1vZFkeCkvJ0KdeHXumd8X4FaO0Z_gD1VECR-8yxPnjWkd4LvrsEHGw_49jYveQRVn_b1kCQiiWVvE05SpLka6kFZlNy4U8/s320/frowny+face.jpg)
This is where you come in. I need your help. It is Christmas, after all. If you find it in your kind-hearted souls to send Mrs. Elsea a pick-me-up line on Facebook or the Tweeter thing, perhaps a textual message via cellular phone or a written note via pigeon carrier, I would personally be deeply grateful.
Nobody likes to be sick. And nobody likes to be sick around Christmas.
Thanks everybody. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and yours!
- C
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